“I promised, Albert.  So did you.”

“We will not talk about it.  But we can at least walk together, Elise.  You need not speak.  What you confessed just now is true—­you cannot say anything to the purpose.”

So they walked on together.  Silently, past all Spenersberg’s dwelling-places they walked, till they came to the cemetery, and ascending the hill they strolled about that pleasant place among the graves, and thought, perhaps, How blessed are the dead! and oh to be lying there in a dreamless sleep beneath the blooming wild roses, and where dirges were sounding through the cedars day and night!  Elise might have thought thus, but not her companion.  He was the last man to wish to pass from the scene of his successes merely because a great failure threatened him.  Looking upon the slight young figure beside him and her grave sweet face, a wrathful contempt was aroused within him that he should have allowed himself to be placed in a situation so absurd.  As they walked down the hill again, he startled his companion by a merry outbreak.  “Tell me you are not mine!” he said:  “there never was a joke like it!”

CHAPTER V.

SISTER BENIGNA.

On her return home Elise found Sister Benigna seated at the piano, attuning herself, as she said, after her work among the restive children of her school.

When she looked upon her friend and recalled the bitter words Albert had spoken against her, Elise felt their injustice.  It was true, as she had told him, he did not understand Sister Benigna.

Sitting down beside the window, Elise began to busy herself over the dainty basket she was elaborately decorating.  After a few moments Sister Benigna left the piano and stood looking at Elise and her work.  She had something to say, but how should she say it? how approach the heart which had wrapped itself up in sorrow and surrounded itself with the guards of silence?

Presently Elise looked at her, but not until she had so long resisted the inclination to do so that there was something like violence in the effort.  When her eyes met the gaze of Sister Benigna the warm blood rushed to her cheeks, and she looked quickly down again.  Did Sister Benigna know yet about the letter Mr. Wenck had written?

A sad smile appeared on Benigna’s face.  She shook her head.  If she did not know what had happened, she no doubt understood that some kind of trouble had entered the house.

Drawing a roll of needlework from her pocket, she quietly occupied herself with it until Elise, unable to endure the silence longer, said, “Oh, Sister Benigna, is it not time we did something about the Sisters’ House?  I have been reading about one:  I forget where it is.  What a beautiful Home you and I could make for poor people, and sick girls not able to work, and old women!  We ought to have such a Home in Spenersberg.  I have been thinking all day it is what we must have, and it is time we set about it.”